


bleeding from his brain and his wallet

by dreamtiwasanarchitect



Series: a love story for the new age (sugar daddy AU) [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Daddy Kink, Dating, Developing Relationship, Enthusiastic Consent, Gags, Idiots in Love, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Kink Discovery, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nicky Is Not A Mouse, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Safewords, Spanking, Spreader Bars, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect
Summary: The whole thing seems too good to be true. At almost thirty, Nicky is long in the tooth for a sugar baby, and he hadn’t really expected to catch the attention of anyone who still had their hair, much less someone as young and handsome as Joe, who’s only three years older than him.The sex is what concerns Nicky most, and he only has himself to blame. He hadn’t outright lied to Joe, but he’d certainly let the other man believe he had more experience outside exactly two mediocre one-night stands, when in reality, Nicky needed to Google most of the terms Joe was using.———Joe knew he was going to like Nicky—he was an attractive, pleasant person who had essentially agreed to let Joe pamper and fuck him any way he wanted, so it would be hard not to—but he hadn’t expected tolikeNicky.This could end badly for Joe, if he gets too attached, but right now he doesn’t care as long as it ends with Nicky in his bed.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: a love story for the new age (sugar daddy AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153766
Comments: 109
Kudos: 755





	1. like you a lot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this kinkmeme prompt: 
> 
> "Broke student Nicky is in a foreign country with no money after being cut off by his parents because they found out he's gay.
> 
> So he signs up to a website where sugar babies are matched with Sugar Daddies. Nicky has to fill out a list to say what he's willing to do - dinner and trips only, or sexual. If sexual, what kinks are a yes, and which ones are a no.
> 
> After a couple of days, he gets matched with SugarDaddy Joe.
> 
> Of course, what starts out as a business arrangement becomes more.
> 
> Top!Joe only, please."
> 
> Now with 50% fewer typos!

It’s possible Joe hasn’t thought this through. He’s spent the last two days scrubbing every inch of his brownstone, and now he thinks it smells a little too clean. Almost sterile, anti-septic like a hospital. 

He lights a candle in every room, hoping that the teakwood and amber will overpower the Lysol.

Joe looks at his phone for the dozenth time. On my way, Nicky had texted ten minutes ago. 

His stomach clenches. He’s immersed himself so deeply in the logistics of this whole affair—signing the paperwork, preparing Nicky’s room, shopping for groceries, cleaning his house—that he hasn’t had a lot of time to stew on what’s actually about to happen.

Joe sits on the couch and takes a few deep breaths.

A man he has never actually met is going to arrive any minute and move in. Joe is going to pay all his expenses—including his pricey NYU graduate tuition—and, as a result, get to do some truly deviant things to him. 

It sounds crazy and also kind of sleazy, but Joe can rationalize that second part away. He’d done extensive research, the site he’d found Nicky on was legit, and they spent weeks negotiating everything besides. 

The notion that the whole thing is crazy is a little harder to argue with, especially when the doorbell rings. 

———

It’s possible Nicky hasn’t thought this through. He has a suitcase and a duffel that contain all the possessions he deemed either too sentimental or too valuable to part with, and he’s in an Uber on his way to move in with a man he has never met.

He reminds himself it’s just for the academic year. It’s not forever. He didn’t sign his life away…just the next nine months.

And he can leave, he reminds himself, at anytime, if it’s just too awkward or he can’t go through with it or—or if Joe hurts him, which is a thought he doesn’t really want to entertain, but an outcome he still needs to be prepared for.

Not that he thinks it’s likely. He and Joe spent weeks negotiating the terms of their…arrangement, and Joe had prioritized Nicky’s comfort every step of the way. Still—Nicky’s met wolves in sheep’s clothing before.

The Uber pulls up to Joe’s brownstone—and Nicky immediately knows which one is his, since he saw several photos of the exterior and interior once it became clear they were both talking about a live-in situation. 

Nicky thanks the driver, hauls his bags up the the front steps, and rings the bell before he can even consider getting cold feet.

The door opens almost instantly, and Nicky is face-to-face with his sugar daddy.

The first thing he feels is relief—in the flesh, Joe is at least as, if not more, attractive as he is in his pictures. Then Nicky is suddenly self-conscious—how is he measuring up? 

Joe had been wide-eyed when he answered the door, but now he breaks into a smile. “Nicky,” he says warmly, “you’re beautiful.”

The ease and earnestness of the compliment leaves him speechless. “Ah, thank you. You are—you’re very good-looking, too. It’s nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand, which feels like the wrong thing to do, but Joe keeps smiling as he takes it in two of his. 

Then he’s helping Nicky with his suitcase and leading him into the house. Nicky drinks it in, though everything is exactly as advertised—lots of art, ranging from classic to contemporary, a small but nice kitchen, plush furniture and shelves stacked with books, though he sees a few that are completely empty.

“Those are, ah, for you,” Joe says, having followed Nicky’s gaze. “If you want, that is. If you’d rather keep your books in your room, that’s—I mean, it’s your call.”

Joe is clearly feeling out of sorts, which somehow helps Nicky pull himself together. “No, I appreciate that, thank you.” He manages a smile. “That suitcase is mostly books.”

Joe grins at him. “I’m excited to see what a philosophy PhD candidate reads.”

“Lots of Kant, lots of Mills, a little Singer,” Nicky tells him absently, as he ventures further into Joe’s home.

Joe points out his room, his office, the bathroom, and Nicky’s room. 

“There’s no en suite,” Joe says, sounding anxious. “Is that all right?”

Nicky stares. Because he has pride, he hadn’t shown Joe pictures of where he had living or even mentioned a neighborhood. “Yes, that’s—that’s no problem.”

Joe beams. “I’ll let you get settled? Unless you’d like some help?”

“Ah, no, thank you, it won’t take me long.”

“Okay. Great. Um, if there’s anything in here you don’t like or want to keep, you can just set it outside in the hall and I’ll find another place for it.”

Joe leaves and Nicky looks around. The room has a double bed, a nightstand, a dresser, an armchair, and a small writing desk. There are a few art pieces hung on the wall but all the surfaces are free of knick knacks. It’s perfect.

The whole thing seems too good to be true. At almost thirty, Nicky is long in the tooth for a sugar baby, and he hadn’t really expected to catch the attention of anyone who still had their hair, much less someone as young and handsome as Joe, who’s only three years older than him. 

What’s more, he’s increasingly confident that Joe isn’t an asshole—just a busy, affluent man, with some pretty intense sexual appetites, who wants an intimate relationship without all of the up-front effort. 

The sex is what concerns Nicky most, and he only has himself to blame. He hadn’t outright lied to Joe, but he’d certainly let the other man believe he had more experience outside exactly two mediocre one-night stands, when in reality, Nicky needed to Google most of the terms Joe was using. 

None of it had sounded bad, really, and Nicky knew an opportunity like this was unlikely to present itself again, so when Joe asked if he was comfortable with a “Dom/sub dynamic,” Nicky did some research before he wrote back and said, yes, of course. Joe responded with a list of specific activities and Nicky took his time looking up each one before agreeing to them all.

He hopes he doesn’t end up regretting it. 

———

Joe sits on the couch and tries to read, but he’s mostly just pretending not to wait on Nicky. When the man in question resurfaces, they trade tentative smiles—Nicky’s is so small, just a twitch of his lips, and Joe wonders what it’d take to get a full-on grin—before Nicky joins him on the couch.

Joe sets down his book. While he desperately tries to think of a conversation topic, Nicky leans in and kisses him.

He spends a second being surprised, then several minutes just being grateful—because it’s really, really good, kissing Nicky.

When he nudges Nicky into his lap, Nicky goes. He has one hand on Joe’s shoulder and the other on his cheek, just the ghost of a touch. 

Joe pulls back to nibble at Nicky’s neck. All that pale skin, his for the marking.

“You know,” he says between bites, “I had big plans to romance you a little first.” It’s true. There’s a new outfit for Nicky in a gift bag in Joe’s closet, an eight o’clock reservation at Modern Love, a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge. 

“I’m a sure thing,” Nicky tells him. He sounds a little breathy, and it’s music to Joe’s ears. He kisses him again.

“I mean it,” he insists after they break apart. Nicky looks confused. “About romancing you,” he says, then has to further clarify. “Though it’s not—it’s nothing much, I just had a few plans for us, is all.”

“Oh.” Nicky’s lips are so red from their kissing it makes Joe want to forget about said plans. But then Nicky smiles again, almost shy. “All right.”

Joe shifts Nicky from his lap. “Don’t move,” he says before hurrying to his bedroom.

When he comes back, gift in hand, Nicky is sitting primly with his hands clasped his lap. His face is hard to read, but Joe thinks he looks a little curious.

“Here,” he says, giving Nicky the bag. “For you. For tonight.” 

“Oh.” Nicky blinks. “Thank you, Joe.” 

If he’d heard Nicky say his name before now, he likely would have abandoned his plans and focused on pleasing Nicky so well he was screaming it. But he’s come too far to turn back, so that will have to wait. 

Nicky fiddles with the tissue paper. “Do you—should I open this now?”

“Um.” Joe clears his throat and looks at his phone. “Actually. Why don’t you just go change? It’s clothes,” he adds hastily. “Nothing fancy, just—I wanted you to have something, from me. And then I thought we could go out for dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” Nicky says, though Joe has no idea if he means it. Sincere or not, Nicky gets up and heads for his room.

The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s got a definite air of hipster chic, so Joe changes out of his joggers and faded Columbia tee and into a fitted shirt and jeans. He laces up his boots and grabs his leather jacket, does a quick for any curls or beard hairs gone astray, and returns to the living room.

Nicky is already there, and Joe is not prepared. His new jeans actually show off his thick thighs and perfect ass, and the v-neck of his shirt shows off his broad shoulders. He’s holding the jacket Joe got him—fatigue-green, military-inspired—and standing in the middle of the room like he’s not sure what to do with himself, which makes two of them.

“You look really, really good, Nicky,” Joe tells him. Getting Nicky’s measurements over the course of their negotiations had been a brilliant act of foresight on his part.

That earns him one of those elusive, small smiles. “You do, too.” He’s blushing a little. Joe can’t help grinning back.

“The restaurant is about a ten-minute walk. Is that okay?” 

Nicky nods. “Yes, of course.” 

He follows him out the door and waits for him to lock up. When they step down on to the street, Joe takes his hand. 

Nicky doesn’t look at him, but he does close some of the space between them so they’re pressed almost hip-to-hip as they stroll through the neighborhood. 

Joe chooses not to dwell on their mutual silence and instead fixates on the feel of Nicky’s hand, the heat from his body. So they’re a little awkward right now—so what? Soon after Nicky replied to Joe’s initial message, they’d established that neither of them had done this before. 

Joe wouldn’t mind being Nicky’s fiftieth sugar daddy, but he can’t deny he’s a little extra pleased to be his first. 

When they get to the restaurant, they’re shown immediately to a table so tiny their legs brush as they sit. Not that Joe’s complaining.

The reason this is all so hard, he thinks as he stares at Nicky across the table, is that they already know so much about one another, despite not actually knowing each other.

He knows Nicky is from a small town in Italy (though he still wasn’t prepared for just how fucking hot his accent would be), and Nicky knows Joe is Tunisian but lived in Germany until he came to the U.S. for college. 

He knows Nicky is on track to complete his PhD this academic year, but he’s been cut off from his family’s money after coming out to them a year ago. Nicky knows Joe is an accomplished and well-off artist. 

Nicky also knows that Joe wants to do all kinds of filthy shit with him—to him—and Joe knows Nicky’s onboard. 

It’s just a lot to have already established on what’s technically a first date. Joe says as much, and Nicky looks thoughtful.

“Well, there are many things I still do not know about you.”

“Like what?”

Nicky leans his chin on his hands. “Do you like to dance at weddings, have you ever brought food on the subway, how do you take your coffee, do you lean your seat back on a plane, would you rather go to the mountains or the beach?”

Joe blinks. Then Nicky’s face cracks into a little smile, and Joe laughs.

“I love to dance at weddings,” he tells Nicky. “I have brought food on the subway but I was really, really hungry and it wasn’t smelly. I like a lot of sugar and a little cream. I would die before I leaned my seat back and I’m a beach guy.”

“Very impressive.”

“Well, what about you?”

Nicky sits back. “I have been known to dance at a wedding, with help from champagne. I would never bring food on the subway or lean my seat back on a plane. I take my coffee black and I get burnt, so mountains.”

After that, talking is easier. There are still a few lulls throughout their meal, but one of them always manages to end it before it drags on too long. 

Joe knew he was going to like Nicky—he was an attractive, pleasant person who had essentially agreed to let Joe pamper and fuck him any way he wanted, so it would be hard not to—but he hadn’t expected to _like_ Nicky. 

This could end badly for Joe, if he gets too attached, but right now he doesn’t care as long as the night ends with Nicky in his bed. 

———

They follow dinner up with champagne back at the brownstone, and Nicky’s pleasantly tipsy as he lets Joe drag him to bed.

“Nicky, I am gonna tie you to this bed and fuck you ’til you can’t walk tomorrow,” Joe groans in his ear as he pulls Nicky’s jeans down, underwear and all.

The pants join Nicky’s shirt on the floor, and Joe’s clothes follow soon after. Joe is very fit—the routine he’d told Nicky about over dinner was clearly working for him—and very warm against Nicky, who has goosebumps.

Joe leans over and opens the nightstand drawer. He fishes out a pair of leather cuffs and Nicky’s nervous (with both first-time jitters and the fear that Joe will realize he has never actually done any of this before) and incredibly turned on at the same time.

“Give me your wrists,” Joe orders casually, and Nicky hastens to obey. He’s not sure if there’s a certain posture he should be adopting as he presents his hands for binding, but Joe doesn’t remark on it so he’s probably doing all right.

Once he’s cuffed, Joe nudges him to lay on his back. He clips Nicky’s cuffs to studs on the headboard and smiles down at him.

“Remember our safeword?”

Nicky nods, and Joe just raises an eyebrow.

“Baklava,” he says when he realizes what Joe’s waiting for. 

Joe kisses his cheek—his stomach does a little flip—then grabs a tube of slick and settles between Nicky’s legs. When he runs his hand up Nicky’s calf, Nicky flinches away.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Just ticklish.” 

“Hm.” Joe taps his fingers on Nicky’s thigh. “Maybe I should tie down your legs down, too.” He watches Nicky’s face for his reaction. 

It doesn’t sound like the worst idea Nicky’s ever heard. He’d be so vulnerable, splayed out and open—fuck. 

“Maybe so,” he breathes.

That gets him another smile, and soon enough his ankles are also cuffed and secured to the footboard.

Nicky wouldn’t have agreed to being tied up if he thought he’d hate it, but he hadn’t anticipated it having this kind of effect. He’s so turned on and it only gets worse when Joe straddles his face and feeds him his cock.

This, Nicky has a bit more experience with, and if the noises Joe’s making are any indication, it’s paying off. Being… _used_ while he’s in such a helpless position is exhilarating. He’s hard and leaking all over his own stomach.

Joe pulls off when Nicky gags a little around his cock. 

“So good, Nicky,” Joe tells him as he moves back between Nicky’s legs. He reaches one hand up to slip his fingers into Nicky’s mouth. Nicky sucks, feeling warm all over.

“You’re so hot. Fuck.” He takes his hand back and pours lube over his fingers. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” 

One of Joe’s fingers circles his hole. He tenses up—this part has always hurt.

Instead of pressing in, Joe just keeps rubbing, smearing slick all over between Nicky’s cheeks. Nicky takes a long exhale and wills his muscles to unclench.

“That’s it, Nicky,” Joe whispers, and his finger slides in past the ring of muscle without any of the discomfort Nicky was expecting. Soon he works in another and presses against Nicky’s prostate. Nicky squirms and moans. 

“How do you feel, baby? All open and ready to take my cock?”

“Yes,” Nicky hisses into the crook of his arm. “Please, Joe.”

Joe rocks forward and kisses him, all teeth and tongue. Nicky sobs into Joe’s mouth when he feels the press of Joe’s cock.

“Shit.” Joe drops his forehead to Nicky’s shoulder, breathing heavily. “You’re so tight, baby, fuck.” 

He wants to wrap his legs around Joe’s waist, tangle his fingers in those curls, but he’s stuck, pinned down by the restraints and the burning stretch of Joe’s cock. He keens when Joe begins to move, fucking him so hard the headboard rattles against the wall.

“Ahh, fuck, f-fuck, Joe.”

“Nicky, baby, you feel so good around me, so hot.” One of Joe’s hands grips Nicky’s cock and has him coming with just a few strokes. 

“Joe, Joe, come inside me, fuck, fill me up—” and Nicky has no idea where _that’s_ coming from, but he wants it so, so badly. “Please come in me, daddy.”

“Fuck!” Joe comes with a shout and collapses on top of him, body shuddering with aftershocks. 

Nicky thinks he could stay like this forever, but soon Joe’s pulling away—and out—to untie him. He lets his his arms flop down to halo his around head.

Once Nicky’s free, Joe curls next to him. “That was amazing.”

“Mmm,” Nicky says in agreement, and then, because while Joe’s come leaks out his ass, his own brain is apparently leaking out his ears, “I’ve been missing out.”

“Ye—wait, what do you mean?”

Shit. He sighs and rolls over to face Joe’s furrowed brows. “I haven’t done…that, before,” he admits.

“What—what’s ‘that’? Do you mean you never…” Joe’s eyes are wide.

“I have had sex!” Nicky says hotly. “Just…never so kinky.”

Joe blinks. “You’re saying you’ve…never been tied up in bed.”

Nicky shakes his head. “No.”

“And you’ve never…tied someone else up?”

“No.”

“But—we talked about all of this.” Joe looks dismayed. Nicky hates himself.

“We did,” he rushes to reassure him. “I said I was up for it and I meant it. I just…” His heart is pounding in his chest. “I didn’t know that I’d like it so much.”

“ _Nicky_ ,” Joe says, clearly appalled. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t done this sort of play before. Why—why would you let think that you had?”

Because I was afraid you might not want me, he thinks.

“I just didn’t think it mattered,” he says.

“Nicky! Of course it matters, I…what if I’d…I don’t know, what if I’d tried for a harder scene and you weren’t ready for that?”

“Then I would have said the safeword.”

“But you don’t—you might not always know when to use it. Sometimes things can get confusing. It’s, it’s easy, to let things go too far, especially when you’re new.”

Nicky rubs at his face. “You know now.”

“I should have known before!” 

Joe is mad at him, he realizes. Horrifyingly, he thinks he might start to cry. He can’t say anything around the lump in his throat. His eyes are burning. Shit. 

He tries to turn away, but Joe stops him with an arm around his waist. 

“Nicky,” he says softly. “Hey. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

Nicky shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have—misled you,” he chokes out. He sounds pathetic.

Joe tugs him closer and strokes up and down his back. “It’s okay. It is. You didn’t know otherwise. I just—” Joe’s face crumples a little, too. “I would never, ever want to hurt you. And if I don’t know where you’re…at, you know, mentally, where your head’s at when we play, that could happen.”

Nicky pushes his face into Joe’s shoulder and nods. “I understand. I’m sorry, Joe.” 

Joe kisses his temple and Nicky peers up at him. “It was really good,” he says. “I’ve never—I really liked it. And I want to do…everything we talked about. If you still do.”

Joe swallows. “Yeah. I do.”

Nicky smiles a little and Joe breaks into a grin.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” Joe says carefully. “But. If you wanted to stay in here tonight, with me…just so I could look after you, make sure you don’t drop…”

Nicky has no idea what that means, but he’s very certain he doesn’t want to sleep alone. 

“I do, I want to.” 

They lay together and kiss until Joe gets up to fetch a damp cloth and a glass of water. He wipes both of them down and pushes the water on Nicky. 

Nicky falls asleep with Joe pressed against his back. The only thought in his head is: more. 


	2. sick as a dog

They had two more days together before the semester started and there were new demands on Nicky’s time—teaching and grading, in addition to his thesis work.

During that period, Joe fucked Nicky over the couch and up against the kitchen counter. They blew each other in the shower and Nicky has yet to actually sleep in his own room. It was all amazing, though Joe was very careful to keep his freak flag flying at half-mast. He’s taking Nicky at his word, sure, but he can’t help but hold himself back a little.

It’s now just two weeks into the semester and Nicky is cooking their dinner while Joe watches and labors under the illusion that he might be able to help. He’d tried, on their second day together, to cook an elaborate meal, but Nicky came into the kitchen, saw the way he was chopping vegetables, and promptly took over.

(“I’m the supposed to be the one taking care of you,” Joe had protested.

“Yes, and how will you do that without fingers?” Nicky asked with a little smirk. He expertly diced an onion and frowned. “You could buy new knives, though.”

“Okay, what kind?”

Nicky smiled. “I’ll show you after dinner,” he said, and leaned over for a kiss.)

The dough rolling that’s currently happening seems a little aggressive. 

“Something wrong, baby?” Joe loves saying that. Nicky hasn’t called him “daddy” since the first time they fucked, not that Joe is keeping track or anything. 

Nicky puts down the rolling pin and sighs. “I have made absolutely no progress on my thesis. And the semester will only get worse.” 

“Damn.” Joe scratches the nape of his neck consolingly. “What can I do to help?”

Nicky looks at him so intensely, so seriously and Joe knows whatever he asks for, he’ll get. A Maserati? Done. A vacation home on the beach? Sure. World peace? Joe’ll try. 

“I need some discipline,” Nicky says, voice low. 

Joe’s mouth drops open. Nicky stares him in the eye. Goddamn.

He almost asks, are you sure? But he knows the answer. 

“Okay,” Joe manages, and swallows. “Okay,” he tries again, and this time it comes out with at least an ounce of authority. “You’re going to finish our dinner. And while it’s in the oven, I’m gonna give you what you need.” 

Nicky’s pupils are blown wide. He nods and resumes rolling the dough with an almost comical amount of focus.

Joe waits, arms crossed. They don’t speak, the air thick with the promise of things to come. 

When Nicky closes the oven door and turns back to him, Joe heads into the living room.

Nicky’s hot on his heels. 

“Take off your pants,” Joe says as he takes a seat on the couch. “Underwear, too.”

Nicky obeys so quickly, so beautifully, it’s staggering. 

Joe pats his thigh. “Come here.”

Nicky hesitates for just a moment, like he’s not sure what exactly Joe’s asking—then he’s draped over his lap, facedown, and Joe will burn his entire art collection if that’s what he has to do to keep this.

He palms one of Nicky’s ass cheeks and tries to get a handle on himself.

“You need discipline, baby?”

Nicky nods. Joe pinches his perfect ass. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, please…please, daddy.”

Joe is going to lose his mind. He’s sure Nicky can feel his cock, even through Joe’s sweats, pressing against his stomach. He takes a deep breath and keeps rubbing Nicky’s ass.

“How about we start with ten? Does that sound okay?”

“Yes, daddy.” Nicky’s hips are already humping his thigh. 

“Okay, baby. You know what to say to stop.” Then he slaps Nicky’s ass. It’s just a warm-up, but Nicky’s skin still turns pink.

He lands another hit on Nicky’s other cheek, aiming for the same restrained intensity. 

On the third smack, he dials it up. By the fourth, Nicky is making little choked, gasping sounds and absolutely writhing in his lap.

“Baby,” Joe says, “I need you to try to hold still for me. Be good.” 

Nicky whimpers, but he stops bucking against Joe for the fifth and sixth spanks. Joe’s hand is starting to hurt, so he can only imagine how Nicky’s ass is feeling.

After the seventh hit, Nicky is shaking. One of his hands grips Joe’s knee. 

“Joe, Joe,” he sobs. 

Joe decides it might be time for a little break. He runs his hand over Nicky’s hot skin. “You doing okay, baby?”

Nicky nods, eyes screwed shut. “Joe, I—I think I’m going to come, please—”

The thought of Nicky coming untouched in Joe’s lap, from being _spanked_ , is almost too much to process. 

“Okay, baby, that’s okay. Just wait until after number ten, okay? That’s just three more. Can you do that?”

Nicky keeps nodding. “Yes, yes, yes, please,” he begs, so Joe spanks him again. 

“You’re so hot right now, baby.” Another smack.

“Last one. You can come after this.” Joe makes it count. Nicky screams and comes all over his thigh.

Joe massages Nicky’s neck, rubs his back, pets his ass. “You were amazing. You are amazing. Fuck, Nicky. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Nicky peeks his head up from where it’s buried in one of the throw pillows. “Ever?” he asks, voice thick.

“Ever,” Joe confirms. Before Joe can ask him how he’s feeling, Nicky’s sliding down to his knees between Joe’s legs.

His eyes are glazed when he looks up at Joe. “Can I?” he asks with his hands on Joe’s waistband. 

“Anything for you, baby,” Joe sighs. 

After he comes down Nicky’s throat, they have to cut the afterglow short in the interest of not burning their dinner. They end up eating on the couch, legs tangled together. 

“So,” Nicky says between bites. His face is a little red. “Could we do that again?”

Joe laughs. “Uh, yeah, absolutely.”

“No,” Nicky says. “I mean—regularly.”

Joe feels his eyebrows creeping up. “Um. Yes. How—how regularly did you have in mind?”

“Once a week, maybe?” 

Joe nods.

“On Sundays?”

He nods again. 

“I think I could take more than ten,” Nicky says thoughtfully. “If you wanted me to.”

Has Joe died? Is this some unexpectedly kinky afterlife? “Okay.” He sets his plate down on the coffee table as he processes. He sits back and gives Nicky a long look. “I’ll keep that in mind. It’ll depend on how good you are.” 

Nicky sucks in a breath. He puts his plate down next to Joe’s, then curls up against his chest.

“Thank you, daddy,” Nicky whispers in his ear. 

———

The weekly spankings do a lot to keep Nicky in good spirits throughout the semester. And once Joe decides that Nicky’s orgasm is dependent on him making the necessary writing progress, they become good for his thesis, too. 

To celebrate the end of finals, Joe has Nicky ass-up on his bed, wrists and ankles cuffed to a spreader bar. 

Joe’s fingers tease his hole. He’s so open. Joe could probably slide his entire hand into him right now with no resistance. The thought makes him moan around the bit in his mouth. 

Joe has been fucking Nicky for maybe two-minute increments before pulling away and leaving him bereft for what feels like hours. Blindfolded with the tie Joe wore to dinner, Nicky has no idea where Joe goes when he’s not touching him. (Probably not far—Joe had instructed him to snap his fingers in lieu of using their safeword.) 

Joe’s cock glides back into him, and he resumes his steady, ruthless pace while Nicky desperately tries to meet his thrusts and makes nonsense noises behind his gag. 

He feels inhuman, like an an object, like a _thing_. 

Luckily, Joe takes care of what’s his. He shifts Nicky’s hips and the new angle is perfect. 

Nicky comes and feels immediately boneless, like he’d collapse if not for Joe’s grip holding him up. Joe acts like he hasn’t even noticed that Nicky’s spent—he just keeps pounding in, sending shockwaves up Nicky’s spine. 

“Nicky, baby, you’re so good for me,” Joe chants in his ear. 

He’s floating when he feels Joe come inside him, a rush of heat and wetness. Joe pulls out and bends to lick against his hole, making Nicky squirm and whine. 

Joe’s tongue and fingers have him coming again, almost painfully this time, like he’s got nothing left to give. 

He falls in on himself when Joe releases his hips, the position awkward and uncomfortable until Joe undoes his cuffs and rolls him on to his back. 

“Close your eyes,” Joe tells him softly before pulling his tie off Nicky’s eyes. He unbuckles the bit and gently works it out from Nicky’s teeth.

“You were so good, baby,” Joe says again as he massages Nicky’s jaw.

Nicky nuzzles into his hand and falls into a doze. Every now and then he notices the sounds of Joe moving around the room, cleaning up after them. 

Joe strokes his back as the fuzziness starts to fade and the world around him comes back into focus. He blinks up at Joe.

“Sit up and have some water?” 

Nicky nods and lets Joe help him up. Joe hands him the glass but keeps his hand pressed over Nicky’s, steadying his shaky grip. 

“Hungry?”

Nicky swallows his sip of water. “No.” His voice comes out strained and hoarse.

“Finish your water,” Joe says, and he does.

Joe looks over at his phone. “The night’s young, but we can call it if you’re ready to go to sleep.”

Nicky shakes his head and drains the glass. “Let’s watch a movie?” 

Joe kisses his forehead. “Anything you want, baby.” 

Swaddled in blankets, Nicky curls on the couch while Joe scrolls Netflix. Several atrocious-sounding holiday films are trending in the top ten.

“Hey,” Joe says suddenly, “do you want to do anything for Christmas?”

The thought of Christmas without his family feels a little like a knife in his chest. The estrangement had been a long time coming, but this year will be the first he doesn’t return to Italy. 

He can’t help snapping. “Like what? Take you home to meet my family? Go to Midnight Mass together?” 

Joe frowns. “No,” he says slowly. “I mean—if you wanted to go to church I, we could do that, or you could just go, of course—but I meant if there were, I don’t know, any traditions you wanted to do. Like eggnog or looking at lights or anything.” He looks away and scratches his head. “I don’t know.”

Nicky’s icy mood melts. He sits up and takes Joe’s hand.

“Eggnog is foul,” he tell hims. “And most of my Christmas traditions involved chants in Latin, but I haven’t gone to mass in years. I just want to spend time with you.” 

Joe’s smile is so angelic he may never need to pray again.

“Okay. In that case,” Joe says, turning his attention back to the TV, where he’s selected one of the cheesy Christmas movies. “how do you feel about this one? There’s elephants.”

Nicky thinks it looks terrible. “Queue it up,” he says, and squishes closer to Joe. 

———

A week after the new year, they’re in a cab on the way to Joe’s art opening. Nicky looks devastating in his suit, and the very vivid memory Joe has of fucking him in the dressing room during his fitting has created some type of Pavlovian response. 

He valiantly ignores his instinct to start making out with Nicky in the backseat in favor of bringing up the subject he’s been stewing on for weeks.

He rests a hand on Nicky’s thigh. “Hey, uh, something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Nicky looks away from the window and meets Joe’s eyes. Shadows from the street lights dance across his face. “What is it?”

“I, ah. I was planning on introducing you as my, as my partner, tonight, and I just wasn’t sure if—I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with that.”

A quick, indecipherable expression flits across Nicky’s face, gone before Joe can start to make sense of it.

He panics. “I know that’s not—not the _exact_ nature of our relationship, but—”

Nicky rests his hand on top the the one Joe has on Nicky’s thigh. “No,” he says easily. “I understand—of course that’s fine.”

Joe releases the breath he’d been holding. “Okay. Good.”

They walk into the gallery hand-in-hand. In addition to making great arm candy, Nicky is the perfect date, keeping him in refills, covering when he forgets a patron’s name, and making sure he doesn’t miss out on any of the stuffy finger food. 

Calling Nicky his partner doesn’t feel like enough, but that’s already technically an overstatement. Joe reminds himself that even though he thinks of Nicky as his everything—boyfriend, baby, beloved—the reality is that they have a business agreement. Nine months. Tuition payments and dirty fucks. 

It’s just easy to forget what it is, because it feels like so much more. 

Near the end of the night, Nicky’s wandered off. Joe finds him in standing front of the last-minute addition to tonight’s show—a charcoal sketch of Nicky himself, suspended in a rope harness. 

“I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on that one,” Joe says as he comes to stand beside Nicky. 

Nicky fixes him with a look that could melt metal. “As have I.” He smirks. “I told you including it was a good idea.”

“Right as always,” Joe murmurs, lost in the memory of that afternoon. Nicky acted like he could’ve hung there all day. Joe still doesn’t think he perfectly captured the blissed-out look on Nicky’s face. 

He takes Nicky’s hand. “You ready to go?”

Nicky frowns. “It’s your night.” 

“Then let’s go.” His chest feels tight. He’s irrationally afraid of what will happen if he can’t be inside Nicky in the next twenty minutes.

On the drive home, they do make out in the backseat. They also make out leaned against the front door and in the hallway. Finally, Joe gets Nicky stripped out of his suit and into the bed. 

He tears off his own clothes and lowers down on top of Nicky. They kiss more while he works Nicky open. 

Nicky’s legs wrap around Joe’s waist and his hands tangle in his hair. Joe strokes Nicky’s cock with one hand and cups his face with the other. He fucks Nicky as slowly as he can stand, relishing every sensation. Their eyes lock. 

I love you, he thinks.

“You’re perfect,” Joe says. 

Nicky clenches around him and moans. “You make me feel so good. Joe.” 

And to prevent himself from saying something very stupid, Joe breaks away from Nicky’s stare and sucks a long, hard bite into his neck.

Nicky groans and comes in his hand. Joe tries to fuck him through it but the feelings he has for Nicky have eaten through everything in him—self-control included—to burrow into his heart, and he comes with a gasp. 

They stay tangled for as long as they can stand, then Joe cleans them up before they settle into their usual spooned position.

“Thank you for tonight,” Joe says quietly.

“What part?” Nicky mumbles back, close to drifting off.

He swallows, suddenly close to tears. “Every part.”

Nicky squeezes his hand before his breaths start coming slow and deep.

Joe tells himself to get it together. This may have an expiration date, but that’s all the more reason to enjoy it while he can. He buries his head in Nicky’s neck and shuts his eyes.


	3. don't let it stop

On the first semi-warm day of the year, they picnic in Central Park. While the whole affair was Joe’s idea, ensuring they had edible food fell to Nicky. 

It’s a little absurd, to wear a parka and shiver on the ground while eating charcuterie, but Joe keeps him close and kisses his cold lips so Nicky bears it with dignity. 

“Well, the good news is we have the park to ourselves,” he says, trying not to laugh.

Joe grins. “Exactly. You gotta beat the crowds. Get a more intimate setting.”

“If you’re implying you want to fuck out here, that will be a no from me.”

“Come on, baby, haven’t you heard about huddling for warmth? One coat under us, one coat over us.”

“And if I get frostbite on my cock?”

“I’ll suck it off.” 

Nicky wrinkles his nose. “That’s not how that works.” 

Joe laughs and kisses him again. Nicky snakes a cold hand under his collar and Joe pulls away with a squeak.

“I actually do love this time of year,” Joe says after they finish laughing. 

Nicky looks around at all the dead trees and clumps of dirty, half-melted snow. “Why?”

“It’s the dark before the dawn. Everyone’s so sad and sick of winter but spring is right around the corner. It’s like the last mile of a marathon. You made it this far and you’re almost to the good part.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Joe smiles, eyes crinkling, and pushes himself to his feet. “All right, let’s go before your heart gets any colder, ice king.” He holds out his hand.

Grinning, Nicky takes it. 

They warm up together in the shower when they get home, then Joe ties Nicky’s wrists to a chair and jerks himself off on Nicky’s face before teasing him with his mouth.

Joe’s tongue is the only thing he can focus on until he finally comes, at which point the thought he’s been actively repressing all day will no longer be ignored.

Spring is almost here. Spring means the end of the school year. The end of the school year means the end of Joe. Because Joe is not his boyfriend, he’s his benefactor. They have a business relationship, not a romance.

He screws his eyes shut while Joe wipes his face clean.

“Nicky? Is everything okay?”

“Just some come in my eye,” he manages.

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. You should have told me.”

“It’s okay, it, ah, it wasn’t bothering me before.” He collects himself and opens his eyes to see Joe standing over him, face full of concern. 

There’s no longer any point in denying it, he thinks helplessly. He’s in love with this man. 

———

Nicky’s finished the bulk of his thesis, but midterms have him in a foul mood, so Joe suggests a game to distract him. Every morning that week, he fucks Nicky, then plugs him before sending him off to teach his class, still half-hard with Joe’s come held inside him. 

By Friday, Nicky is wild-eyed and desperate. 

“Joe, please. I can’t do another day,” he cries as Joe presses the plug in. 

Joe kisses his cheek. “Yes you can, baby. You’re so close. Think how good it’ll feel tonight.”

Nicky pulls at his own hair. “Please, daddy.” 

He looks so wrecked that Joe is tempted to give him what he’s asking for. “You know the rules, Nicky,” he reminds him. 

Nicky sobs, but he still hasn’t used their safeword. 

“Come on,” Joe says, “you’ll be late.” He helps Nicky off the bed and into his clothes. Nicky’s body is pliant, but he looks at Joe like he wants to scratch his eyes out.

“Six hours,” Joe tells him, and sends him on his way. 

He’s distracted all day. He can’t stop thinking about Nicky—how hot he was when he was begging, how angry he looked when Joe denied him. The thought that Nicky might actually be mad at him is unbearable.

He bolts up from the couch when he hears the door open. “Hey,” he says.

Nicky kicks off his shoes and heads to the kitchen without acknowledging him.

Joe corners him against the refrigerator. “Hey,” he repeats, this time more urgently. 

Nicky’s jaw clenches. He won’t meet Joe’s eyes.

“What’s wrong? Are you just worked up?” He rubs at Nicky’s arm, but Nicky pulls out of his grasp and stalks into the living room, putting the couch between them.

“Nicky, come on, you can’t give me the silent treatment right now. Are you pissed about this morning, or did something happen?” 

Nicky crosses his arms and looks away. 

Joe’s at a loss. He doesn’t know what Nicky wants. Unless—unless he does.

“Or,” he says slowly, “are you just acting out?” 

Nicky makes a pained noise then. 

Slowly, Joe moves around the couch and takes Nicky’s wrists. “Look at me.” 

Nicky does. His pupils are like black holes, but the set of his jaw is still defiant.

“I’m going to take you to bed and teach you a lesson. And if you’re good, then you’ll get to come.” 

He gives Nicky’s wrists a quick squeeze—not to hurt, just to get his attention. “Okay?” he presses. 

“Fine,” Nicky huffs, and Joe supposes that will have to do.

In the bedroom, Joe strips Nicky and bends him over the bed. He takes off his own belt and folds it in half.

He gives Nicky’s plug a tap. Nicky squeals.

“You’re getting five,” Joe tells him. “I want to hear you apologize after each one.”

He doesn’t wait for confirmation, just gives Nicky his first hit and relishes the way he twitches. He’s afraid Nicky’s going to keep disobeying, but then:

“I’m sorry.” It’s quiet, but it’ll work.

“Good.” Another smack. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby.” Again. 

Nicky’s shaking a little and his breath is coming in shallow pants. “I’m sorry, Joe.”

“I know you are. You’re doing so good. Just two more. You can do two more, right?”

Nicky nods. “Yes.” 

He lands another hit. Nicky claws at the sheets. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Last one,” Joe says, and gives it to him.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Nicky says, voice thick. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby.” Joe lets the belt fall to the floor and helps Nicky crawl up on the bed. He cups Nicky’s face to kiss him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good now, okay?”

“Please, please, please,” Nicky slurs. His eyes are glassy. 

Joe works the plug out, careful not to tease Nicky. He lubes up his cock and fingers some into Nicky as well, since Joe’s come from this morning is mostly dried and tacky. 

He slides in and wastes no time finding Nicky’s prostate. He hits it with every thrust, determined to make this perfect for Nicky, who is moaning and mumbling into the bed. 

He shouts when Joe gets a hand around his cock.

“Joe, Joe, Joe.” Nicky writhes like he’s gone feral. It’s fucking hot. Joe’s grateful for the consistent orgasms he’s been having, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to make this last.

“You’re always so good, Nicky, fuck, so good for me.”

Nicky chokes out a sob as he thrashes. “Joe…”

He’s wriggling so furiously that Joe has to tighten his grip. He wraps an arm around Nicky’s chest, holding him close. It has the added benefit of deepening the angle.

Nicky cries out again. 

“You’re perfect, baby,” Joe tells him, and fucks him harder, still tugging at his cock. He’s a little surprised Nicky’s lasted this long, but maybe this was just an extension of his funky mood—

“Baklava,” Nicky gasps. “Baklava—”

It’s like Joe’s brain short circuits. Does not compute. He’s frozen for a moment, and then he gets his shit together.

“Okay, okay, Nicky, I’m gonna pull out—” And he does, as quickly and carefully as he can manage. 

His instinct is to touch, but he takes a step back from the bed. 

Nicky’s still facedown, ass up. He’s trembling. His hole is puffy and red, something Joe usually finds unbearably hot, but now it just makes him feel like a monster. Was Nicky trying to squirm away from him that whole time? 

“Nicky,” Joe says helplessly. 

Slowly, Nicky pushes himself to sit up on the bed. His face is pale, not flushed like Joe expected. His eyes are shining but not red like Joe had feared. He looks as lost as Joe feels.

“Can—can I get you anything?”

Nicky shakes his head.

“Can…can I touch you?”

“I…yes, okay.”

Joe wants to gather him in his arms and hold him all night, but Nicky hadn’t sounded especially enthused at the idea of Joe touching him. So he settles for sitting next to Nicky and rubbing his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Nicky says suddenly, not looking at him.

“What? Nicky, no, don’t be sorry. I don’t—I don’t know what happened, but you don’t need to apologize for wanting to stop.”

Nicky nods once.

“Nicky, can you…can you tell me what happened? What I did?” He swallows. “I don’t want to hurt you, or do anything you don’t like.”

Nicky remains quiet.

“Please?” Joe asks, voice small.

Finally Nicky turns to meet his eyes, just for a brief moment before he looks back down. “I don’t really feel like talking about it tonight,” he says finally.

“Nicky, we have to—”

“I know,” Nicky says, a little more firmly. “We will. I promise. Just, tomorrow, okay?”

No, Joe thinks. Absolutely not. 

“Okay,” he says. 

Nicky stands up. “I think I’m going to sleep in my room tonight.”

Joe wants to scream. Nicky has yet to actually use his bedroom for anything but storage and studying. They even slept together during the week Joe had a cold. 

“Okay,” he says again, forcing a smile. “Night.” 

“Night,” Nicky says, and leaves. 

Joe buries his head in his pillow and cries. 

———

Nicky lays awake all night in the unfamiliar bed, amazed at how badly he’s managed to fuck things up.

He has no choice. He’s going to have to leave.

Because if he stays, he’ll owe Joe an answer as to what happened. And he can’t think of anything to tell him but the truth, which is “I safeworded because I’m madly in love with you, and you were fucking me so good and the thought that I couldn’t have this forever destroyed me.” 

He feels sick to his stomach. He’d pack up his things, but half of them are scattered around other parts of the house. He’ll have to do that after they have their messy pseudo-breakup. 

He stares at the ceiling until he hears Joe moving around. Nicky finds him in the kitchen, the coffee already started.

Joe’s smile is strained. “Hey, morning.”

Nicky is going to throw up. “Hi,” he manages. 

Joe pours a cup of coffee and tries to hand it to him. Nicky’s paralyzed.

“I’m leaving,” he blurts.

Joe stares, mug still outstretched.

“I know we—we had an agreement,” Nicky plows on. “But. I need to terminate it.” 

Joe sets the mug on the counter and frowns at him. “I don’t understand,” he says finally.

Nicky’s heart is in his chest. “I want out.” 

Now Joe’s eyes are wide, sad and hurt. Nicky hasn’t felt this way, this shitty, since he came out to his parents.

“You want to…to end this early?” Joe asks.

Nick nods.

“Why?”

Because it’s not working, Nicky thinks. Because I need to move on. Because you deserve better. 

“Because I don’t want to end this at all,” he says.

Joe looks more shocked than ever. Nicky closes his eyes. 

“Nicky,” Joe says after a long moment. “Nicky. Look at me, please.”

He does. Joe’s eyes are shining.

“I love you,” Joe says. “You’re the smartest, funniest, sexiest, most interesting person I’ve ever met. I think I’ve felt it since our first date. I’ve known it since my opening. I’ll pay for you to get twenty doctoral degrees and we can call it whatever you want, but Nicky, I want to be your everything.”

Nicky is speechless, so he kisses him. He fists one hand in Joe’s shirt and the other in his curls and puts everything into the kiss to keep himself from crying.

“I love you, too,” he says when they break apart. “You _are_ my everything.” 

Joe smiles and it’s like sunlight. Then his face turns serious as he asks, “Is this what last night was about?”

Nicky shuts his eyes and nods, sighing. “Yes. I, it was so good, and I started thinking about how soon I wouldn’t have it—wouldn’t have you—anymore, and I spiraled.”

“You’ll always have me,” Joe tells him. “As long as you want.” He nuzzles Nicky’s nose. 

Nicky’s too relieved to stop himself from teasing. “Even when I’m no longer young and beautiful?”

Joe laughs and grabs his ass. “You’ll always be beautiful to me, baby.” 

He winks, and Nicky kisses him again.


End file.
